She could hear faint shrieking of the sirens in the distance. They were late, As always. She could already feel heavy drops of acidic rain falling on her cape, hissing as they evaporated on its polymer-like surface and filled the air with smell similar to burning rubber. She could smell it even over the adrenal tubes stuck in her nostrils.

Hiding her face deeper in the black cape, she let out an annoyed growl. This part of the ship had the worst weather of all the ship districts. It was true that closer to enginarium it rained far more frequently, „all-the-fucking-time“ if you asked cogheads living there, but the occasional drizzle that appeared here was far worse. Here the moisture from the coolant tubes that wormed their way across the districts met with toxic vapours coming from petrofactories and resulted with downpour of brimstone on the heads of poor labourers. From time to time it got so bad that rain could eat you to the bone. It was a rather uncomfortable sight.

The sirens were supposed to warn locals, but old things barely worked. Barely anything worked in here. Except the actual people. They worked until they fell down and got picked by meat catchers just to be replaced by a beggar from the lower districts that wanted to sweeten his nutrient paste with some bread and water. That was another pretty uncomfortable sight.

„It hurts,” said a timid voice behind her. She quickly turned, just to see a pale little flower of a girl staring at the distant, cloudy ceiling above, her delicate hand trying to wipe the painful sensation from her forehead. Tziva’s expression turned from annoyed to concerned in blink of an eye. A long step later, she was next to her sister and quickly drew the cape over her face.

„Saaba, what did I tell you about looking up when it’s raining? Do you want to end up like me, you dummy?” she asked, sounding more like a concerned mother than older sister. She squatted in front of the girl and grabbed her face so that she could make sure that rain did not do any lasting damage on her sisters‘ pale face. Her own cape slid from her head as she looked up, putting her into danger of receiving some acid herself, but did not really care at the moment.

Saaba was looking at her sister quizzically as the gloved hands grabbed her face and started turning it around. Tziva’s concern made her less than gentle. Despite the rapid movements of Tziva’s hands, Saaba‘s eyes did not did not move, fixated on the comical concern of her older sister. Most people found her stare unnerving, going as far as calling her dark eyes insectoid. But Tziva did not mind. She in fact enjoyed when her sister looked at her like that. They said eyes were windows to the soul and when Tziva looked at her sister’s eyes, all she could see was her own reflection.

„You are lucky Divinity is on your side,” she said with relief. There was a red spot on her sister’s forehead but it did not look like anything that would last. „No head in the clouds from now. We need to focus now. There is work to be done, you know?”

Her question was rhetoric but her sister still nodded her head in surprisingly thoughtful gesture. She was usually less responsive.

„Now let’s get going. We could really use those scales.“

She would not exactly call it being sure, but she had a degree of confidence that her sister would not do anything silly again. At least not until they need her particular kind of silly. Now that brought a grin to her face.

Petrofactorial district, or Smokeshop as it was commonly known, was the deepest of work districts. The last district that could still be considered civilised, but civilisation was not the first thing that came to mind when looking around. Where the workers from the frontal districts, like from the magnificent horticulture or slightly less magnificent clockworks, had to step on metaphorical shit of their lives, here they swam in it. Or drowned. Mostly drowned.

Smokeshop’s position in the back of the ship meant it became something of a melting pot, where honest work met with scum and villainy. In practice, it meant that misery shone like a priest in brothel.

On the bright side, it was the only place on the Arch where one could see some vivid colours. Like there, for example, Tziva could see a worker whose skin became unnaturally green after all the exposure to toxic vapours. Or over there another worker whose pale skin was covered by disfigured by red burn marks because sirens tended to be fashionably late. Old saying said that where was rain, there was also a rainbow. It probably was not meant to be taken literally, but Tziva could not disagree with it.

It was an ugly place, tragic to point of being grotesque. Yet she could not hate the place too much. There were worse places to live. Or rather, there were not really any better. And she had job here and luckily it was not in the factory.

They walked for almost an hour until they reached their destination. The district was a labyrinth of corridors and doors. Dirty ones led to factories, anonymous to hab-cabins and the ones with eye-burningly bright neon lights belonged to cantinas and filthy pubs.

The doors that they sought looked like something that wanted to be all these things and stuck with being neither. The metal doors were too small to belong to factory, but there was a plenty of filth. Probably piss and vomit. There was no neon, but someone decided to spray an angry face on one of the wings in particularly violent shade of pink. If the rest of Smokehouse lacked personality, this place could lend it with a surprisingly low interest rate.

Bubblehouse was a strange establishment to say the least. The strangeness started with name, followed through its tiled, green interior that pointed to its past of worker bathhouse and then decided to comfortably sit on lap of its owner as he swung on his completely out of place looking rocking chair.  His eyes were hidden behind oval mirrored shades that reflected light from surrounding lamps and turned him into ridiculous human disco ball. The place of was surprisingly spacious and size was furthermore emphasised by the lack of any other person than its eccentric owner. It was still too early for any guest nor any of the „ladies” that worked here.

He made no sign that he noticed two strangers entering his domain and simply kept rocking from back and forth, but Tziva was sure he noticed them. He would notice them even if the room was full of drunkards and middle of knife fight. There was little that could escape Villon. Both figuratively and literally.

„Hey Villo. Working hard?” she called to him as she closed the door behind her sister and locked the door with the key that was stuck in them. Villon often did that when he wanted to keep the meetings confidential.  She hanged her cloak on the hanger and walked behind the counter where Villon kept his goods. On top of it stood a large glass bowl full of thin smokes and Tziva did not waste any time before fishing out one for herself.

„No need to work hard when costumers serve themselves, apparently,” the man answered. It was a little bit hard to understand him because he had a bad habit of biting his tongue due to his fake teeth being a bit bigger than his mouth allowed. It was a terrible curse for a person who enjoyed talking as much as he did. He turned to Saaba that approached him, apparently mesmerised by her reflection in the shades. „Hello little mouse,” he said and the girl giggled. The word mouse was particularly problematic for him and she found it funny.

„Can I have your glasses?” she asked, tapping her fingers on one of the mirrors.

He sighed, took his shades off and put her on Saaba’s head. If she looked somewhat insectoid before, now she looked completely like a fly. „But only cuz you made them all dirty now and your sister is quite a looker.” He glanced over to the counter, but Tziva was currently looking for a lighter that just had to be hidden annoyingly low. Only thing he could see was a middle finger raised above the table.  „How charming...” He looked back at the fly-girl. „But don’t forget to return them; you know they are family heirloom.”

Tziva who finally managed to her smoke laughed at that. „As if. Everybody knows you came to be when cockroach fucked a mouldy cheese.” Now it was Villon to turn to flip a bird.

„So what do you want from us? I didn’t get wet just to see you – and no, don’t dare to make a joke about that.”

„As if I would. We both know I’m too old to be funny now...“ It was an odd sentence coming from somebody in his thirties, despite the impression made by his rocking chair.

 „I called to-„ she stopped in mid-sentence because he noticed Tziva fishing for more Tabaco heavy cigarettes from the bowl „-to support you in your bad habits. You know I’m a cheapskate, those thing are going to kill you faster than factory work. Ah... Why do I bother? I called you cuz I need you to take care of something. Or someone. No… Something fits better. He isn’t a guy; he is more of a giant tool and major pain in my ass. And not the good kind of pain that you pay for and wake up next day filled with feeling of pride and accomplishment. Just regular pain you want get rid of.”

It was surprising how much he enjoyed the sound of his voice, thought Tziva to herself. “You mean permanently?”

Villon threw his hands up in a theatrical gesture. “Of course not! I’d prefer if this pain came back sometimes later and bit me harder. You know you and your sister are too expensive to be hired on routine shake down.”

That answer made Tziva smiled. Villon was an asshole, but she could appreciate his way of doing business. He always paid exactly as much as he had to. Never more, never less. “I was just shitting you. Who is the unlucky guy?”

“Ugly bastard that goes by the name Cauliflower.” Tziva raised her eyebrows but Villon continued before she could interrupt him. “I’m not shitting you. He comes from one of the colonies and you know what passes there for a sense of humour. They call sarcasm the lowest of wits but trust me, he is so dumb he could lick my sarcasm’s ass… Well, anyway, he and bunch of other colonial apes decided to throw a party in here and you know me, I’m not kind of guy that would throw them away just cuz they look like they picked a bad exit during birth and entered this world through an asshole. But then he decided to go all touchy with one of my girls and when she was having none of that he turned from touchy to fisty. Which made me turn gunny. I didn’t shoot him, mind you, but I still feel like there was some bad blood spilled and I just want to make sure that bad blood will be the only blood that does so.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“So you want us to kill a mutant named after vegetable because you decided to be a hero and now you are afraid of the consequences,” summarized Tziva tto Villon’s obvious displeasure. “I guess I can do that much.”

She managed to finish three more smokes before Villon managed to explain where this major pain in the ass lived. She did not understand how somebody with his speech problems could talk so much and passionately all the while saying so little. Fortunately, it was something one could get used to it. At least he let her smoke.

“Let’s go Saab,” she called to her sister that was examining the glasses with almost childish curiosity. The girl nodded and went to Villon to give him his glasses back. “Cauliflower, what a funny name,” she told him and giggled.

Cauliflower, what a stupid name, lived in hab-block pretty close to Villon’s “fine” establishment. It was a tall building, almost reaching the Arch’s ceiling. Just thinking about it made Tziva dizzy. On Arch, there were not many places where one could get used to heights and in place like Smokeshop, being high usually meat choking on all the unvented vapours. She hoped the guy was sensible enough to lay low. The name did not inspire too much confidence though.

She looked at her sister who stood silently next to her. It appeared that she has bee staring at her for some time. “Wait here,” Tziva told her. Saaba’s expression changed only so slightly, but Tziva could read in her sister like if she was a book. She disagreed with the proposition.

The older sister sighed. “His name is Cauliflower, this is going to be a milk run, I even have a plan, you see? But the issue isn’t the job but…” Tziva looked around with fake suspicion a little bit of Villon’s theatrical attitude apparently rubbed on her “getting out can be a bit more problematic. I need you as a back-up and to make sure I can get out alright. Alright?” Saaba nodded, but her expression remained unconvinced.

“Good,” said Tziva and entered the building. She was painfully aware that her sister knew she was lying to keep her out, but Villon asked for this to be a clean job. Saaba had a habit, whether it was good or bad depended on circumstances, of not being particularly clean.

Cauliflower, a brute of man let out a cough-like laughter. He and his friend, Tulip, were just recalling old memories back from the colony. It was terrible place to be born at.  According to preachers, men were no longer permitted to step on solid ground until they get absolved of their sins. Cauliflower was by no means religious and this particular dogma was rather irksome for someone of his background. But he was not delusional, what he and other colonists had to endure on the planetary surface was a terrible ordeal.

One could see it quite plainly. Actually, one would need to be blind in order to not see that there was something wrong with him People that lived on the Arch might have been pale shadows of original Homo Sapiens Sapiens, unnaturally slender and pale, but the colonists could hardly pass for a human anymore. They grew big, bigger than should their bodies allow. Some, like Cauliflower and Tulip were muscular to point of being swollen. Other simply bloated like a corpse that swam for too long.

Their skin was hard, almost hide-like. They bone structure evolved, or rather revolted against the natural order of things and along with muscles turned them into golems of flesh and meat. And what was worse, everyone understood how abnormal this was. Even Cauliflower, who grew alongside all the other baby meat golems, knew that there was nothing normal about them. Deep down, his human mind could not get used to fact that it is the only human thing left.

Luckily, Cauliflower was not a very thoughtful man. But that did not mean he was not smart or at least devilishly cunning. That is what got him and his lads onto Arch after all. Here they could enjoy the life that seemed like a paradise when compared the life on the surface. Yes, people here started at him in disgust, but Cauliflower always believed that might makes right and he knew how to be very right.

Right now, he knew someone who deserved to be righted into a bloody pulp. He grinned to himself, his teeth ugly blunt stumps. “Tommorrow, we are gonna pay that shiny-eyed bastard back. Make sure all the boys will come along, It will be good to enjoy some old sportsmanship,” he said to his swollen comrade. Tulip grinned back “Sure thing, chief. We will show him colonial hospitality.”

Someone knocked on their doors. That confused Cauliflower. Why would anyone knock on their door. Especially now that all the Pales were working. Maybe some of the junkies from the upper floors that got tired of life? Whatever it was, he could not care enough to get up from the couch that became his throne in the past few weeks. “Go and look,” he ordered Tulip.

The other colonist stood up with a grunt and towered towards the hab-cabin’s door. “What do you-“ he started asking as he opened the doors but stopped in the middle sentence by the strange sight in front of him.

She was a pale as they come and Arch-dweller through and thorough. Unlike the women from colonies, there was barely any meat on her and what meat there was shared space with a plenty of metal. Despite her figure being hidden by a long, rubbery looking cloak, he could already see a plenty of typical augmentations Pales so much liked to disfigure themselves with. A half of her head was cleanly shaven and upper left part of her head was covered by a skull like mask. The left eye itself was replaced by three lenses that faintly hummed as she measured him.

Metal or no metal, Tulip had to at least admit she won it in the chest department. That was the last thought that came across his mind before a thin blade entered his eye socket and exercised it into an abyss. He fell on the ground with meaty thump.

“What’s going on, Tulip?” Cauliflower shouted as he got up in almost comically swinging manner.

“Tulip? What have you all done to your parents that they hate you enough to give you such stupid names?” replied Tziva instead of Cauliflower’s friend

“You bitch!” the colonist rumbled and threw himself at the woman quarter of his weight. She easily sidestepped him and with a turn slashed his back with a second blade. He might have an advantage of strength, but in tight space of the cabin, he could not manoeuvre all that well.  Still, Tziva had to give him credit for keeping his cabin sensibly barren. There was no unnecessary furniture except for a rather disgustingly looking sofa and a small table with what appeared to be a considerable amount of so called “pixie dust”.  The guy was doing pretty well for himself, she had to admit that.

At least she would if there was enough time to admit anything. The lack of obstacles managed to even the odds more than she would like and Cauliflower changed his strategy from throwing his body around into throwing his fists around. The meat golem was a surprisingly fast.

She managed to dodge a left hook that could very well flatten her face, and then jumped out of reach of well-aimed gut punch. However, she was not so lucky with the third punch and the first threw her flying right on top of the table and its narcotical content. She held her breath to avoid getting accidentally drugged, but she was pretty sure that if she will not end the find soon, she might find herself at what will soon appear to be a rather wild, woozy and hilarious danger.

The Cauliflower did not waste any time and tried to kick her ribs while she was still lying on the floor. Due to luck as much as due to skill, she managed to jump to her feet before the man’s elephant foot could break anything important. When the giant tried to punch her again, she put the blade in the harm’s way. The slender slid between the knuckles of his brick-like fist.

The colonist shrieked in pain. “You bitch! You bitch! You bitch!” he started shouting as he stared at the blade sheathed in his wrist. However, he still looked very much alive and capable of stomping her into the ground. Especially now that she lost her weapon and started feeling increasingly more relaxed for some reason.

Luckily she always carried two blades. Less fortunately, the second blade was also stuck deep in the brain of the other giant. Quickly, before Cauliflower could regain his composure, she threw herself to the doors and successfully managed to avoid giants half-hearted attempt to catch her, he obviously had something else on his mind. The colonist lying on the floor also had something on his mind, she allowed herself to joke as she caught the blade’s hilt. But before she could take it out from the man’s eye a meaty hand caught her forearm.

In terror, she realised that the hand belonged to giant whose brain she used as a pincushion. “What the fuck are you?” she managed to say before the hand pulled her to the floor. It was a pretty bad fall and only fact that her head was partially artificial saved her from bad concussion. However that was the only luck she had.

She tried to get up, but man’s grip was too strong and he pulled her down once again.  There, lying on her back she found herself facing the face of pure terror. The giant’s face that was already disfigured stared at her with an insane look in his eye. The second eye was however even more unnerving with a slim hilt of her blade sticking out like a fat maggot.

“You stabbed me, now I will stab you, he he,” he said his tone free of any wit. One of his meaty hands held her by the then neck while the other started wandering around her body. The ogre’s look was focused on her chest and it was not very difficult to guess what his intentions are.

“Make her pay, Tulip,” shouted Cauliflower, apparently still too bothered by his hand to think of exacting revenge.

Tziva let out a choked laugh. “Something’s funny, bitch?” her assaulter asked just as he managed to open up her coat. He did not expect this kind of pair. Tziva’s head was not the only artificial “improvement” she had.

The small shoulders metallic joints connected to her slightly below her shoulder blades came to life and small artificial hands that were up to this point folded on her chest shot out like metallic snakes. They were her secret weapon, crude yet compact instruments with all the elegance of a razor wire. They caught the handle of the blade sticking from the man’s eye socket and started moving it around and twitching.

Tziva just wished there was actually anything important in there because the previous experience did not yield much success. Her metallic hands kept turning the blade but the giant was not letting go of her neck. What kind of fight was that, she kept thinking as the consciousness packed up and started leaving her.

Not a second too early, Tulip finally gave up and released his spirit. Unfortunately, he fell directly on top of her when his unnatural energy left him and there was not enough of Tziva’s own strength to toss him aside.

What was worse, Cauliflower stood above her, his eyes talking of anger and revenge. “Who the fuck are you?  And why the fuck do you have two pair of hands?” he asked as if he wanted to regain a little bit of lost sanity before he delved back into a murderous rage.

Tziva registered a movement in her peripheral sight and her exhausted expression turned into that of a victorious satisfaction. “Those hands? I got them to keep up with her…” she replied.

Cauliflower could not hear her, he could not move, he could not… He just stood there in front of the petite looking woman, somewhat similar to the previous intruder yet impossibly different. Almost alien. He could see her black eyes staring at him from inside her cape. He felt cold, almost freezing, but his body was infernal fire. He could not hear anything,  yet the noise was deafening. All the while there was pressure. Oh, so much pressure. He felt like his head is going to implode. Yet it exploded.

Tziva instinctively closed her eyes. This was not the first time she had seen this. She could feel something wet hitting her head, along with a few sharp splinters.

When she opened her eyes, the whole place was covered in red. She was now almost thankful for the giant that laid on top of her as he shielded her from the most of the gore. Her sister was not that lucky.

Using all her remaining muscular and mechanical strength, she managed to push the corpse from her and stood up on shaky legs. Saaba was shaking far more. Tziva was sure she could hear a humming if she put her ear close enough as if her sister was some kind of giant human-like tuning-fork. She decided to put that theory to test.

“All is well now, little mouse. You are the best back up,” she said soothingly and hugged her tightly.

“You lied about having a plan.”

“Sorry.”